


The Game

by paperstorm



Category: The Old Guard (Comics), The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Canon Queer Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Flirting, Happy Ending, M/M, POV Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prostitution, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:01:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29825343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperstorm/pseuds/paperstorm
Summary: “I’m not going to pay you for sex,” Nicky says, flatly, as certain parts of his anatomy scream at him in protest. His brain is sure of that decision. Other appendages are decidedly less so.“How about you let me kiss you.” The man reaches out and picks up Nicky’s pale blue tie, folding it between deft, elegant fingers. Nicky doesn’t know when he got in so close. He’s suddenly a foot away from the man without remembering moving in. “Just for fun. No charge.”
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 31
Kudos: 223





	The Game

Nicky sips at cheap vodka on ice, swirling the melting cubes around so they clink against the edge of the glass. He squints at them in the low light and watches as they slowly dissolve into the clear alcohol. He idly wonders if he’s risking going home with hepatitis from the water in this dive. There were definitely rats hanging around just inside the main entrance, which is definitely not up to any possible modern health-code standards.  
  
He probably should have ordered the drink _neat_ and considers picking the ice cubes out. He also shouldn’t be in a hole-in-the-wall in the scuzzy end of central Budapest, far too late at night, surrounded by seedy people in trashy clothing, drunk enough to drown out their own problems. Smoking is still legal in bars here, unlike some other cities he’s frequented in the last decade, and the purplish haze that surrounds Nicky leaves him a little dizzy. He’s only on his first drink, so the way his head is spinning isn’t the alcohol. The music is scratchy over the ancient speakers. Nicky recognizes the song. It’s an older one, from decades ago, the vocals wailed out high-pitched and harsh, but this kind of music was never really his taste so he couldn’t name the band.  
  
Nicky swivels just slightly on his barstool and takes a quick glance around. The heavily-tattooed bartender had frowned at him like she was worried he might be lost, when he’d plopped himself onto a bar stool and ordered a Kalinka on the rocks, and it’s easy to understand her reasoning. Two men in denim vests had lumber past him, with hard expressions on their faces like if he looked at them wrong, they might take him out back and beat his face in with brass knuckles. An equally tough-looking but much younger woman has been watching him since he walked into the place, with hungry eyes, like she’d like to take him out back and do something entirely different. Nicky has been avoiding her gaze, not wanting to give her the wrong idea and get her thinking he’d be interested in that exchange.  
  
He reaches toward his neck and loosens his tie, popping the top two buttons on his dress shirt. It isn’t as crisply pressed as it was earlier, but then, neither is Nicky. A long day, a few stressful meetings, and all he wants to do is lose himself in a drink at a place where someone like him doesn’t quite fit in, and then head home and sleep for a full day. Maybe three days.  
  
“Another?” the bartender asks, holding out the clear bottle at a slight angle over his glass.  
  
Nicky shakes his head. He isn’t really a fan of vodka anyway. “Thanks, I’m good.”  
  
“Are you meeting someone here?” she asks, putting the bottle down and flipping her jet black hair back over her shoulder.  
  
“No, why?” Nicky frowns.  
  
“This is going to sound like a line, but we don’t get a lot of people in here looking like you. Or sounding like you.”  
  
The second part, he understands. His Hungarian is rusty these days, and it’s always been heavily accented. He enquires further about the first part, asking, “what do I look like?”  
  
“Like you’ve got your life together. Or at least like you did, until you walked in here.” She nods over toward a table of what Nicky assumes are regulars. “The clientele around here is usually a little … for the sake of being nice, let’s say rough around the edges.”  
  
“Oh.” Nicky shrugs. “I guess I just needed a drink.”  
  
“You live around here?”  
  
He shakes his head but offers no further information, and she grins at him with raised eyebrows and shrugs breezily like she’s used to people not being particularly forthcoming. “Okay, mysterious handsome stranger.”  
  
Nicky tosses back the remainder of his drink and sets the glass back down on the bar. He pulls his wallet from his back pocket and digs a few paper bills out of it, that he leaves on the bar beside his glass. He tells the bartender to keep the change, even though it’s over twice what one shot of vodka costs in a place like this. She thanks him with a wink and says she hopes she’ll see him again. He doesn’t disagree, but she likely won’t. She was right, that he doesn’t belong here. For a number of reasons, none of which he’s going to get into with a woman whose name he doesn’t even know.  
  
He turns left as he leaves the bar, heading down the street in the direction of the apartment he’s been staying in for the last few weeks. Movement catches his eye as he passes the space between where the bar ends and the next building starts. He looks over, to see a man standing in the shadows, leaning against the wall.  
  
“Got a light?” asks a gentle, melodic voice.  
  
Nicky pauses. He should just keep walking. He should definitely, absolutely, unequivocally just keep walking.  
  
He doesn’t. He takes a step closer, so he can see more clearly in the low light of flickering streetlamps. The man is tall, taller than Nicky, although not by much. His dark hair is long and curly, perfect coils of it falling into nearly-black eyes that Nicky imagines would sparkle like amber in the sunshine. A strong jaw, plush, full lips, and broad, muscled shoulders leading down to the tiniest waist. Nicky wonders for just a moment how this person finds shirts that fit. At present, a leather jacket hangs off those shoulders, draped artfully over his frame. His jeans are tight and torn at the knees. One foot is propped up on the brick wall behind him, presenting a bare kneecap, warm brown skin glinting in the low light from the streetlamps.  
  
Nicky has to swallow over a lump that rises quickly in his throat. “Smoking is bad for you,” he manages to say, after an embarrassingly long pause and his muddled mind finally helpfully reminding him of the reason this interaction had begun in the first place.  
  
A cocky grin moves the toothpick stuck between straight, white teeth. Long, slender fingers come up to take hold of it so he doesn’t have to talk around it. “I do a lot of things that are bad for me.”  
  
Butterflies explode in Nicky’s stomach. Staunchly, he attempts to keep it from showing on his face. He nods toward the bar he just came out of. “The haze in there is so thick you could barely see through it. I bet someone in there could help you out.”  
  
The man casually tosses the toothpick onto the pavement in front of him. It lands in a puddle. “I don’t really smoke. It was just an ice-breaker.”  
  
Nicky should go home. He should bid a respectful farewell to this stranger – this gorgeous, muscled, dark-eyed stranger – and continue walking toward his apartment. Instead, his feet are rooted to the spot as if they’ve grown half a century’s worth of roots in the last three minutes. “What … ice are you breaking?”  
  
“Gotta rope in new clients somehow.” It’s said with a shrug, casual and careless.  
  
“Clients?”  
  
The man spreads his arms out, gesturing around himself. “Welcome to my office.”  
  
“Oh.” After a moment’s consideration, Nicky understands what he means.  
  
“You don’t look like you belong around here.” The man leans back against the wall, unknowingly echoing the words of the tattooed bartender. “All fancy in a suit and tie.”  
  
Nicky isn’t even standing particularly close to him, but there’s gravity around this person. He wants to be closer, can feel himself being pulled in. He fights it and stays where he is. He confirms, “I don’t. I was just heading home.”  
  
“You could stay a while. If you wanted.”  
  
Sympathetically, Nicky smiles at him. “I don’t pay for it, kid.”  
  
The man snorts. “Kid? I bet I’m older than you.”  
  
Nicky doesn’t ask him to prove it. It hasn’t been _that_ long since he got himself laid, but it’s been long enough that decent percentage of his body wants him to take the next few steps into the alley and kiss the stranger stupid. He’s exactly Nicky’s type – masculine but pretty, cocky but with a softer edge to him, like he’d be sweet in the mornings. If he’d met this man in the bar earlier, he would have at least considered flirting with him and maybe even toyed with the idea of taking him home.  
  
“Come here,” the man requests, holding out a hand. When Nicky doesn’t immediately follow his direction, he smiles, and yes, Nicky was right. There’s sweetness under all that bravado. Likely more of the former than the latter, once he’s off his guard. “I’m not gonna bite. I don’t have a pimp waiting around the corner to rough you up. Just want to get a better look at you.”  
  
Nicky wants to ask why, but the stranger’s words send sparks shooting up his spine.  
  
“When I say I won’t bite,” the man amends, smile turning dirty again, “I mean, unless you ask nicely.”  
  
More sparks, even though it’s _such_ an overused line, and Nicky’s feet are sending him into the alley. The man smells incredible, when he gets in closer. Like leather and pine trees. Nicky could bury his face in that long neck, inhale him, breathe him in for hours until he’s lost all thought of anything else.  
  
The man lets out a low whistle. “Here’s the thing. My usual Johns are working-class toughs with dirty fingernails who would jump off the Liberty Bridge if anyone ever found out they were into dick. That’s why my office is a back alley. You, I don’t think you’re like that. And it’s not just the suit.”  
  
“What do you think I’m like?”  
  
“I’m not sure yet.” The man looks him up and down, his gaze as hungry as Nicky feels. Up this close, he can see the outline of impressive abs under a thin, tight white t-shirt. “Real nice to look at, though.”  
  
“So are you,” Nicky says, forgetting himself just for a moment and flirting back.  
  
“Aw, see, you’re warming up to me already,” the stranger drawls. Nicky can hear just the barest a hint of an accent, but can’t place it. So he isn’t native to Hungary, either. He certainly doesn’t look it.  
  
“I’m not going to pay you for sex,” he says, flatly, as certain parts of his anatomy scream at him in protest. His brain is sure of that decision. Other appendages are decidedly less so.  
  
“How about you let me kiss you.” The man reaches out and picks up Nicky’s pale blue tie, folding it between deft, elegant fingers. Nicky doesn’t know when he got in so close. He’s suddenly a foot away from the man without remembering moving in. “Just for fun. No charge.”  
  
Nicky has wanted to kiss those plush lips since setting eyes on them, and something in him snaps. Confidence surges in his chest and he moves in another few inches, planting his palms on the wall on either side of the stranger’s head, crowding into his space and trapping him against the crumbling brick. “Is this really how you do business? Luring in unsuspecting strangers, talking them into _just a kiss_ , and then when they’re hard and horny for it, you get what you wanted all along?”  
  
“We could both get what we want.” His voice is low, husky. His eyes are glistening. His hand comes up, as if to reach for Nicky’s cheek, but then he changes his mind and it falls back down. They still haven’t touched, and Nicky wishes the man had followed through.  
  
“What is it you think I want?”  
  
“I was watching you in the bar.” A tongue comes out to wet soft-looking lips, leaving them shiny. “Looking like you had a really shit day. I could make it all better.”  
  
“I’m not paying you.”  
  
“Kiss me, then.” It’s a dare, uttered with a self-assured jut of his chin, like he thinks Nicky won’t. “Like we said. Just a kiss, no money. No nothing. One kiss.”  
  
Nicky shouldn’t. He does it anyway.  
  
The very first thing to touch is their lips, as he leans in and presses his into the mouth he knew would be soft. A tiny moan rumbles in the man’s throat, and his hands go to Nicky’s hips, pulling him in closer and opening up to let Nicky taste inside. His tongue is sweet and minty, warm against Nicky’s, exploring, swirling around in lavish passes. It leaves him dizzy like the smoke in the bar had before the fresh air had cleared it away. Strong hands squeeze his sides, fingers digging into his ribcage. Nicky moves one hand from off the wall to tangle it in soft black curls, and he pulls a little on his handful, just to elicit another needy moan.  
  
When he pulls away to draw in a ragged gasp of breath, the man’s cheeks are flushed, and his lips are even shinier, and his eyes are heavily hooded. Nicky is hard in his slacks, the ache of it throbbing through his groin, and he wants more than anything to press himself forward and grind into a firm thigh muscle. He resists, for now, but follows the trace of a tongue over that delicious bottom lip with his eyes.  
  
The man sees him watching, and his grin is downright filthy. “I’m Joe.”  
  
“Nicolò.”  
  
“I like that. Sounds exotic.”  
  
“My friends call me Nicky.”  
  
“I like that, too, in a different way. Nicolò sounds like you should be the muse of a Renaissance sculptor. Nicky sounds like you should be snuggled on Sunday mornings by someone who refuses to let you out of bed before noon.”  
  
Nicky swallows and his throat feels like sandpaper.  
  
Joe’s hand comes up again, and this time he does touch, rubbing the pad of his thumb over Nicky’s lips and then trailing it down his chin. “You’re beautiful, Nicolò.”  
  
“You think so?”  
  
“I think you should fuck me.”  
  
Nicky barely manages not to whimper. “Isn’t it illegal?”  
  
“Not here. And especially not if you don’t pay me.”  
  
“I thought that’s what you do.”  
  
“Oh, it is.” Joe’s fingers trail lower, down Nicky’s neck, settling on the loose knot of his tie. He’s so close, his breath is warm on Nicky’s cheek. “But people who work at restaurants can still cook in their spare time.”  
  
“I’m not going save you. This isn’t that Julia Roberts movie.” Entirely betraying his own attempt to protest, Nicky leans in and runs his nose up Joe’s cheek. His skin is so soft, supple and recently shaved. Nicky can only imagine how soft it is elsewhere, or what it would taste like. His dick throbs in enthusiastic agreement, voicing its desire to find out.  
  
“I’m not a pretty woman, anyway.”  
  
Nicky hums. “Half true. You are pretty.”  
  
“No money.” Joe’s free arm goes around Nicky’s waist, hand pressing into the small of his back, fingers dipping just below his belt. “If you feel like buying me dinner after, that’s up to you.”  
  
“Why would you want that?”  
  
“Like I said. Most of my clients aren’t even halfway close to someone I’d give my number to for real, if I wasn’t working for it.” His lips press into Nicky’s jaw. “But you. You are.”  
  
“I’m still not going to save you.”  
  
“I don’t need saving.” Joe’s hand slips fully into Nicky’s pants. He pulls, moving Nicky in all the way, so they’re pressed together. Nicky can feel him hard against his hip, burning hot even through two layers of clothing. His cock feels thick and long and Nicky’s stomach flips imagining getting his hands on it, or his mouth.  
  
It’s the final straw. All Nicky’s reserve snaps. He really, really shouldn’t. It’s so dangerous, in so many ways, and it isn’t in character for him at all. In this exact moment, he doesn’t care about any of that. He kisses Joe again, harder this time, pushing him back into the wall.  
  
Joe’s fingers squeeze handfuls of his hair, and his hand on Nicky’s ass squeezes, encouraging Nicky to grind against him like he’d resisted doing before. It’s heady and it feels like spinning. He tastes so good, and his hands feel incredible on Nicky’s body.  
  
“Get on the other side of the bin,” Joe rasps, letting Nicky go and pushing on his chest.  
  
Nicky blinks at him, confused.  
  
“You wanna get caught?” Joe quirks an eyebrow.  
  
Nicky would certainly rather not, so he follows the direction, walking around the blue dumpster and further into the shadows of the alleyway. Joe follows him, smirking at him, and when Nicky tries to pull him in for another kiss, Joe bats his hands away and drops down to his knees. He grabs Nicky by the belt and roughly undoes it, tugging Nicky’s pants down and getting his cock out. Nicky has never in his life gone so quickly to meeting someone to having his genitals right in their face and he flushes in brief embarrassment, but Joe stares at it like it’s a four-course meal, licking his lips before sinking down onto it, swallowing Nicky nearly all the way down in one go. The air punches out of Nicky’s lungs.  
  
“Fuck.” He buries his fingers in Joe’s hair.  
  
Joe waggles his eyebrows at him, looking up at Nicky through his eyelashes, somehow adorable even though there’s a cock bumping the back of his throat. He sucks Nicky like he’s trying to medal in it at the blowjob Olympics, tongue moving perfectly along the underside, tight suction around the head before he slides back down.  
  
He moves off long enough to say, “don’t come yet, but don’t hold back,” and then pulls Nicky back into his mouth.  
  
Understanding what he meant, Nicky uses his grip on Joe’s hair to hold his head still, moving his hips slowly, fucking himself in and out of Joe’s mouth. It’s warm and wet and perfect, and Nicky’s skin is on fire, crawling like he’s covered in spiders, sweating through his nice shirt.  
  
When Nicky moans loudly, Joe sits back, smiling up at him with puffy lips and sparkly eyes. Nicky was right, about his eyes. They would unquestionably turn to glittering gold in bright sunshine.  
  
“Fuck,” Nicky says again, as commentary this time.  
  
Joe gets the balls of his feet underneath him and stands athletically, kissing Nicky roughly and pressing the taste of himself into Nicky’s mouth.  
  
“You’re still sure about this?” Nicky asks. His hands slide underneath Joe’s leather jacket, feeling warm skin through the thin t-shirt, fingers curling around that tantalizing waist. The cut of muscle over his hips is sharp and firm and if they weren’t in an alley next to garbage bins, Nicky would lay him out and lave his tongue over every groove of muscle. Joe is so big, he could hold Nicky down and fuck him until he cried and then kiss him tenderly in the aftershocks, but that’s not what Nicky wants right now. He flips them, slamming Joe’s back into the wall, a little harder than maybe he should, but Joe moans as Nicky attacks his lips again.  
  
“I want you so fucking bad.” Joe hisses as his head knocks against the brick, belatedly answering Nicky’s question. “Yes, I’m sure, fuck me. Get that gorgeous cock in me, fuck me right here against the wall.”  
  
“The mouth on you,” Nicky breathes. Arousal courses thickly through his veins. He just _wants_ – wants so much his brain instantly rejects all other thoughts. He licks at beads of sweat on Joe’s neck.  
  
“Maybe some time I’ll show you what else it can do,” Joe says, with a wicked smile.  
  
Nicky kicks his foot in between Joe’s and pushes his thigh up between Joe’s legs, rubbing it against the erection still trapped in those tight jeans. It can’t be comfortable, and Nicky knows he isn’t helping with the way his leg is moving against the bulge. He drags his hands down Joe’s chest, getting the button and zipper down on his jeans and pushing his hands inside. He curls his fingers around the heated length, burning like a brand against his palm as Joe pants into his hear. His other hand goes around to the back, shoving in between Joe and the wall and pushing down into his jeans.  
  
Slipping his fingers between the cheeks of Joe’s ass, Nicky makes a small sound of surprise. Joe is slick already, and when Nicky rubs his fingers over the hole, it’s loose enough to slide two fingers right in.  
  
“You …” his thought trails off on a moan, as he bites at Joe’s shoulder and pumps his fingers in and out of slick, delicious heat.  
  
“M’always prepared,” Joe answers, his words turned to drunken-sounding slurs as Nicky spreads and twists his fingers as best he can at the awkward angle. He can’t get at the spot inside that will make Joe see stars like this, and that just won’t do.  
  
He bites Joe again, a little harder just to hear him gasp, and then pulls his hands away. “Turn around,” he orders. “Spread yourself out for me.”  
  
Joe’s eyes flash, and his lips are parted and wet. He pulls a condom out of his pocket and hands it over, and then does what Nicky asked, pushing his jeans a little further down his thighs and turning. His fingers splay on the wall. Nicky moves in close to him, kissing the back of Joe’s neck and reaching around him to stroke his cock a few more times. It feels so nice in his hand, he wishes they had more time so he could figure out all the ways to take Joe apart and piece him back together again. Sliding three fingers in this time, just to be sure he’s stretched enough, he bends them and finds Joe’s prostate, rubbing around it and feeling electric inside at Joe’s responding moan.  
  
“C’mon,” Joe urges, pushing his ass back onto Nicky’s fingers. “Quit playing and fuck me.”  
  
“If you want it, you can be patient for it,” Nicky chastises, unsure of what’s come over him. He doesn’t usually order people around. With his free hand, he tugs at the collar of Joe’s leather jacket. “Get this off.”  
  
Joe has to wiggle a little to accomplish it, with Nicky still pinning him to the wall, but he manages to shake it off so it falls to the ground next to their feet. What Nicky had thought was a t-shirt is actually a tank, several sizes too small so it strains to remain intact over bulging muscle. His biceps are enormous, twitching as his hands shake against the wall in front of him.  
  
“Look at you,” Nicky murmurs to him, running his hand up Joe’s broad back. “I bet this is a lucrative business for you, looking like that.”  
  
“Nicky,” Joe mumbles, soft and familiar.  
  
“Shh.” Nicky kisses his shoulder and pulls his fingers away. “I’ll take care of you, don’t you worry.”  
  
“Please.” It’s nearly a whimper, anticipation making him shiver as Nicky takes a moment to roll the condom over his aching cock, and then rubbing it over Joe’s loosened hole so it catches and drags on the rim of muscle. Joe repeats, even softer and more desperate this time, “ _please_.”  
  
Nicky wraps one arm around his stomach, and with the other guides himself slowly into Joe’s body. Joe drops his head down on a long moan, as Nicky slides in all the way. He knows Joe can take it, his body was made for it. Built, as if by intentional design, to fit like this with Nicky. He’s perfect. Nicky tells him so.  
  
“You don’t gotta be careful,” Joe urges, already rocking back against him. “Wanna really feel it.”  
  
“Oh, you do, do you?” Nicky teases, moving his hips far too slowly.  
  
Another gorgeous whimper, and Nicky takes pity on him, pulling out almost all the way and then slamming back in. Joe cries out, far too loudly considering they’re technically in public and anyone could stumble upon them at any minute.  
  
“If you can’t keep quiet, I’m putting my tie in your mouth,” Nicky warns, not backing off his brutal pace to let Joe think about it.  
  
Nicky thrusts into him, hard and ruthless. Joe is squirming, trying to push back but he can’t with the way Nicky has him pinned to the wall. He goes down from his hands against the brick to his forearms, crossing them and leaning his head on them and moaning as Nicky fucks into him, still too loud but quieter than before; trying to be good. He’s so warm inside, so slippery and tight and Nicky loses himself in it. He feels feral, hears himself growling things in a voice that doesn’t sound like his own, synapses lighting up every time he hits the spot inside and Joe gets louder for a moment before Nicky reminds him to be quiet.  
  
“Feels so fucking good, fuck,” Joe swears. His legs are shaking. Nicky’s are too, but he doesn’t slow his pace. It’s agonizing and wonderful all at once, all mixed up in the thrill of a stranger, and the risk of being caught. Nicky didn’t think he was much of an exhibitionist, but he might have been wrong about that.  
  
“You feel amazing,” he tells Joe in response. “Your body pulling mine in like you were made for this.”  
  
He reaches back around, finding Joe’s leaking cock again and smearing precome down over the shaft to ease his fist as he pumps it in time with his thrusts. Joe cries out again, and this time Nicky doesn’t tell him to be quiet. He’s too far gone, too head-rushed and dizzy with pleasure, to care if anyone hears them. He rolls his hips deep, again and again.  
  
“Are you close, darling?” he asks, his voice rough and raspy.  
  
Joe nods. “Yeah. Keep goin’, just like that. Right – fuck – right there. Nicolò, I’ll paint the fucking wall for you as long as you don’t stop.”  
  
“Not planning on stopping,” Nicky promises him, and drills his prostate a few more times now that he has a mental map to it worked out. He squeezes around Joe’s cock, wrist twisting and fingers rubbing under the head, and nearly comes himself just from the noises that spill from Joe’s mouth as he twitches in Nicky’s hand and follows through on his promise to decorate the brick in front of him with his release. Beautiful, desperate sounds, harshly uttered curses, moans that start out noisy and then fade into softer and sweeter as he comes down. A few punctured thrusts later and Nicky comes too, grunting through it with his face pressed into Joe’s back as waves of heat and pleasure crash over him.  
  
Joe is so warm underneath him, sweaty and worked-over. Nicky pulls out of him gently, rubbing his hip through the brief sting, and is grateful for the first time that they’re standing next to a bin so he doesn’t have to move away to discard the condom. Joe is still facing the wall, tucking himself back into his jeans. Nicky winces as he remembers the man’s lack of underwear. If it was uncomfortable before to have his bare cock rubbing against denim, it’ll be far worse now that it’s sensitive. He rights himself as well, getting his pants done back up and attempting to straighten his tie, although it’s probably beyond hope at this point and it doesn’t really matter.  
  
When Joe turns to him, Nicky isn’t sure what to expect on his face, but he’s smiling. He pulls Nicky in for another kiss, warm and slow and languid this time instead of hurried and desperate, but no less passionate. In another lifetime, Nicky could spend days at a time doing nothing but this; just existing in this man’s arms with their lips brushing sweetly together.  
  
“You can have my number, if you want,” Joe says to him. “Only if you want. No pressure.”  
  
Nicky does want. “Yeah. Alright.”  
  
Joe reaches his hand into Nicky’s pocket for his phone. He doesn’t comment on the fact that it’s older and clearly a burner as he types his digits into a new contact. Then he kisses Nicky’s cheek, stoops down to pick his leather jacket up off the ground, and is gone before Nicky can think of anything else to say.  
  
The walk home feels much longer than it is, because Nicky’s mind is wandering and his skin is still thrumming in the pleasant afterglow of a good orgasm. He stands in the cool air outside his building for a moment, with his head tipped back against the outside wall, replaying memories of Joe’s hands in his hair. It will be a long, long time before Nicky loses clarity on the details of this one.  
  
The lights are off, inside, but he knows his way around enough that he doesn’t need to turn them on as he enters the flat. The shadowy figure seated in an armchair across the dimly-lit room makes no noise, but Nicky knows that well enough, too.  
  
“Hey, Andy.”  
  
“Pleasant evening?” her voice asks, the smirk easily apparent on her face even though Nicky can’t see it.  
  
She knows. Nicky doesn’t know the particulars of _how_ she knows, but she knows.  
  
He hums in affirmation and gives her no further details. She can wait until the morning to demand a high-definition play-by-play that she will most certainly get, although likely not from Nicky.  
  
When Nicky gets to the bedroom, Joe is already there, sitting on their bed, propped up against the headboard with his long legs stretched out in front of him. He’s shirtless and his feet are bare; grey sweatpants on his legs. He looks up and smiles as Nicky enters the room, skin glowing beautifully in the low light from the lamp next to their bed.  
  
“You beat me back.”  
  
“Andy picked me up,” Joe tells him, grinning with his lips pressed together.  
  
“And made me walk.” Nicky shakes his head. “Typical.”  
  
He undresses. He leaves his tie, shirt, and pants folded neatly on the top of the dresser and goes to Joe in his underwear. He takes the paperback out of Joe’s hands and sets it on the nightstand, and then climbs into his lap, straddling over Joe’s thighs and settling on them.  
  
“Hey,” Joe says softly. His fingers brush through Nicky’s hair. It’s still messy, and it’s Joe’s fault that it is. “That was fun.”  
  
“Yeah.” Nicky smiles at him, suddenly and without warning filled absolutely to the brim with such overwhelming love for the man in front of him. All his bravado – both real and exaggerated – from before has melted away, leaving only the soft, kind, adoring man Nicky has been madly in love with since the turn of the 11th century. It warms him from the inside out. Little cartoon hearts could be radiating off of him, for all he knows. It wouldn’t surprise him.  
  
“You liked it, right?” Joe asks, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. It’s still red from Nicky sucking on it.  
  
Nicky drapes his arms over Joe’s shoulders and leans in to kiss him. It had felt dangerous, earlier, to press his mouth to Joe’s. Now it feels like coming home. “I liked it. I liked it a lot.”  
  
“I didn’t think you’d be in a suit and tie.” Joe lets his hands settle on Nicky’s hips, big and warm and gently possessive. He’d done the same, in the alley beside the bar, but it’s nicer, now, because they’re _them_ again. 900-year-old lovers and husbands instead of horny strangers. “You looked really good, all rumpled like you’d really had a long day of business meetings.”  
  
“Me?” Nicky asks with a small laugh. “You went all out. How did you even get into those jeans? They were skin tight.”  
  
“Getting out was trickier.” Joe smiles at him, sweet and irresistibly adorable. “I almost fell right over.”  
  
Nicky chuckles. He brings one hand around to touch Joe’s smooth cheek. “You shaved. I wasn’t expecting that.”  
  
“I figured it would change my look up a bit, from how it’s been lately,” Joe says with a shrug. “Catch you off-guard.”  
  
“It did. You did.” Nicky kisses the corner of his mouth. Joe’s hand comes up, reaching for his hair again, petting through the strands. "You looked incredible. So sexy, Joe."  
  
Wordlessly, Joe rearranges them, helping Nicky up off his lap just for long enough to douse the table lamp and lie down on his back so Nicky can curl into his arms. Nicky relaxes, head pillowed on Joe’s chest and Joe’s strong arms around him.  
  
“Can you imagine if we’d been caught,” Nicky muses.  
  
A quiet chuckle rumbles through Joe, vibrating under Nicky’s ear. “Wouldn’t be the first time we’ve been caught with, literally, our pants down.”  
  
Nicky laughs and groans at the same time, remembering some of the other times they’ve been careless over the centuries. It isn’t a regular occurrence, they are too aware of how much they have to lose, but there have been moments where caution has been thrown to the winds in a fit of lust that they couldn’t contain.  
  
“I picked that pub because it isn’t on a busy street, and because there are no doors that lead directly to that alley.”  
  
“You did your homework.”  
  
“I did.” Joe sounds utterly pleased with himself.  
  
“And fingered yourself while you were waiting for me.” Nicky feels lit-up again at the thought of it; can perfectly picture Joe squirming on his own long fingers, wishing they were Nicky’s because the right angle is harder to hit on himself.  
  
A gravelly noise of agreement sends a shiver down Nicky’s spine. “I did that, too.”  
  
Nicky pushes himself up to one elbow so he can look down at Joe. “How long have you been thinking about that particular scenario? Wanting to try it?”  
  
Joe shrugs sheepishly, blushing a little. “A while.”  
  
“You know you can always tell me?”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“Are there any other new fantasies you’d like to float by me?”  
  
“Yes.” Joe yawns and reaches over to shut off the lamp. “Tomorrow. I got fucked pretty good tonight, I’m exhausted.”  
  
Nicky shakes his head at him, bursting with fondness, and settles back down into Joe’s arms. “I’ll show you _pretty good_.”  
  
“You already did, my love,” Joe answers, around another yawn. He buries his nose in Nicky’s hair and inhales deeply. “Sleep.”  
  
Nicky lets his eyes slip closed, with Joe’s scent and his warmth surrounding him. Joe is asleep in minutes, but Nicky lies awake for a while, just to listen to him breathe. He realizes he hadn’t said the word _love_ tonight even once, even after their game had finished, but knows he never really needs to. It’s always there anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!!
> 
> Come talk to me [on tumblr](http://paper-storm.tumblr.com/) if you want!
> 
> [on the off chance anyone would notice, this is a re-written version of a fic I wrote a few years ago for a different fandom, so don't worry I'm only plagiarizing myself]


End file.
